


Bigger Infinities

by chucks_prophet



Category: PUBLIC the Band
Genre: Backstage, Band Fic, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Shameless Smut, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: So he's planning another tattoo. This one is for the song that helped get his band here. "Make You Mine" has always had a special place in his heart. The translucent solo cup with the sludgy green liquid from the music video seems fitting. He's thinking it'll be tipped over, spilling out the words "Half Full" or "Runneth Over".  (What can he say? He's a sucker for cheesy quotes. Hell, he just quoted John Green unironically.)Other tattoos are a little less ambiguous. He can't imagine the fan fiction that would come out of the one atop his hip bone, spelling out 'Matt' in practiced cursive letters. Matt, his very male bassist and best friend.
Relationships: John Vaughn/Matt Alvarado
Kudos: 1





	Bigger Infinities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingmyowndestiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingmyowndestiel/gifts).



> Am I??? Making ao3 history???  
> Ya'll, get on this ship. I'm telling you.

Sherry Vaughn cried when her son got a tattoo.

It's a small infinity sign underneath his bicep, no bigger than his pinky finger, with the initials ‘SM’ interwoven in the hoops.

Although it may be permanent, those initials would hold but temporary residency in John's heart.

But he didn’t let that dissuade him from getting three more. He doesn't see the harm in it. He sees each tattoo as a unique memory, good and bad. Some infinities are just bigger than others.

Like tonight, when he stares out at a crowd of hundreds, all shaking the stage with the words to a song he wrote, he sees a bigger infinity.

He knows this too is temporary. He'll get too old to parkour off equipment cases and crowd surf into a sea of screaming fans.

So he's planning another tattoo. This one is for the song that helped get his band here. "Make You Mine" has always had a special place in his heart. The translucent solo cup with the sludgy green liquid from the music video seems fitting. He's thinking it'll be tipped over, spilling out the words "Half Full" or "Runneth Over". (What can he say? He's a sucker for cheesy quotes. Hell, he just quoted John Green unironically.)

Other tattoos are a little less ambiguous. He can't imagine the fan fiction that would come out of the one atop his hip bone, spelling out 'Matt' in practiced cursive letters. Matt, his very male bassist and best friend.

Not that anyone would be able to make out what it says by the time Matt's finished with him.

They're backstage, just behind the curtains between a set change. Matt's head is framed by John's thighs. John's hands are the hooks holding Matt in place by the long, blonde latches of his hair—one for each hand, tugging him impossibly closer, forcing Matt's nails deeper into his hips. Like the thin but bendable strings on a ukulele, the tandem sensation of hot breath and wet tongue plucks at a random nerve in his body, causing him to twitch and gasp and writhe beneath Matt's grasp every few seconds.

It's a pre-show ritual. Just a little something to get them hyped before going on stage. Every once in a while they'll even, well...

With a drawn-out sigh, John releases his white-knuckling grip on Matt's hair. He smooths out the knots, keeping his eyes closed all the while being serenaded by the sound of his steady stream emptying in the valley of Matt's throat.

Basically, sometimes they'll relieve each other before and after sets. (Sometimes even during, leaving a flustered Ben to improvise a drum solo.) Pre-show jitters are real.

But nothing more real than the way Matt zips up his pants for him and kisses him immediately after. It's a bit sour and tangy, but the movement itself is nothing short of sweet. Just a gentle lap of his lips against his with a hint of tongue. A promise of what's to come later tonight and the rest of their lives.

John readily returns that promise before slipping on his guitar as Austin announces their name.

This night may be just like any other for them. The blinding lights, the screaming fans—a fraction of the world at their attention for thirty whole minutes. But just like his others, it's another tattoo. One etched on his heart.

This time, it's permanent.


End file.
